


Seeds of Change

by DelphiPsmith



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Mentors, Students
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-02
Updated: 2012-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 18:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelphiPsmith/pseuds/DelphiPsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the lessons you learn aren't what you think.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeds of Change

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [ennyousai](http://ennyousa.livejournal.com), swiftest of betas, who turned this around on a holiday Sunday, caught a number of Muggle-isms, and offered excellent suggestions for repairing same.  
> This was written for [hp_holidaygen](http://hp_holidaygen.livejournal.com), 2011.

++--++--+ Monday +--++--++

_Monday morning_

Professor McGonagall paced back and forth in the front of the classroom, her hands clasped before her. "A crucial element of magic is the ability to take what you have learned and apply it in new ways. Rote memorization can only carry you so far. The ability to recite a set of ingredients and procedures from memory is fine if you wish to be a bartender or amateur cook, carefully following recipes or formulae developed by others. To make the most of your magical powers, however, you must go beyond this. You must extend your efforts beyond what you know. You must be sensitive to deficiencies or gaps in your knowledge, and actively work to correct those areas. One way of doing this is to foster the ability to see connections between seemingly unrelated areas of knowledge. Like a seed that lies dormant, these connections can sprout at need to become unexpected resources by which these deficiencies are remedied."

She stopped and turned to face them. "This week you will practice seeing these connections." She removed her hat from her head and a quick wave of her wand filled it with small slips of paper. "You will each draw a slip of paper. On it will be someone's name, and a deficiency that needs to be remedied."

A babble of chatter and nervous laughter arose as Professor McGonagall moved around the room and hands rummaged in the hat for their assignments.

"Bet I know what Potter's deficiency is," Malfoy smirked, reaching his hand into the hat. He unfolded the paper and snickered as he read: _Neville Longbottom. Confidence in his own knowledge._ "Ha! Could've told you that one."

"Oy, who you got?" demanded Goyle, grabbing for the slip.

"Only the person reading the slip will know what need they must remedy in their partner," Professor McGonagall said reprovingly. "If you attempt to show your slip to anyone else, it will be blank. And," she paused to scan the room with eyes narrowed, "you will be unable to repeat it. To anyone. Including the person in whom you must plant this seed of knowledge."

"You mean we can't tell them what we're trying to tell them? So how do we tell them?" Parvati asked, somewhat incoherently.

"That is precisely the point of this exercise," Professor McGonagall said. "You must come up with a way to convey the needed information implicitly, so that it forms an unexpected source of knowledge. The idea must successfully implant in your partner's mind, so that it can germinate for later growth. You will have tonight to consider. Starting tomorrow you and your assigned partner will meet for one hour each day for the remainder of the week, at your convenience. Unless, of course, if you complete the assignment early."

Hermione raised her hand. "Professor, how will we know if we've succeeded?"

"You mean how will McGonagall know, so you can get your usual high marks," muttered Ron, earning a stifled laugh from Seamus and Harry.

Professor McGonagall turned a quelling gaze on the three of them. "An excellent question, Miss Granger." The last two students drew their slips and she replaced the hat on her head. "When you have succeeded, the slip of paper will vanish. Next Monday in class I will perform an Accio to collect all unexpired slips. Anyone whose slip does not arrive will, obviously, receive a passing mark."

Neville glanced at the small piece of paper in his hand: _Luna Lovegood. The value of structure._ He raised his hand hesitantly. "Professor? Er, I think there's a mistake. I've got a third year's name on mine."

Professor McGonagall's eyes seemed to pin him to his chair. "In this lesson, Mr Longbottom, there are no mistakes. If you will recall, this class is open to advanced younger students, and we have several with us this year."

Luna Lovegood, the last to draw, looked at the slip of paper in her hand. It was not in her nature to frown, but she felt a certain amount of puzzlement as she read: _Draco Malfoy. The dangers of pride._

Professor McGonagall turned back to the class at large. "Remember, this practice at recognizing unexpected connections is not only for the person you are teaching, but also for you. The task assigned to you has been chosen because there is something you know well that will help you to do it. Your ability to find that connection within yourself is as important as the seed that you plant in your partner." She glanced around the room. "Good luck. Class dismissed."

_Monday evening (I)_

Luna sat cross-legged on her bed in Ravenclaw Tower, pondering the puzzle presented to her. She didn't know Draco very well, but she'd heard a lot about him from other students, particularly Ginny Weasley. _He's all wrapped up in himself,_ she thought, _so proud of himself and his family. It makes him think stupid things, like that thing about Purebloods being better than Half-bloods._ She yawned. _I wonder if he has a Yawper living in his brain, that can make you think stupid things. It's just as well we're not allowed to say it straight out -- he wouldn't listen anyway. But how do I tell him, then?_ Maybe if she read for a while it would come to her. She picked up her favorite book and snuggled down under the blankets. "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a young man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife..."

_Monday evening (II)_

In the Gryffindor common room, Neville stared into the fire and thought about what he knew of Luna Lovegood. It wasn't much. She was kind of pretty with that long blond hair, but she also seemed rather...vague. The one conversation he'd had with her, she'd gone on and on about Licksquillies. Apparently you had to be careful with any sort of lickable candy -- lollies, ice cream, lickable wallpaper -- as the Licksquillies loved them, and if they got hold of something it would be gone in three goes. He knew her father ran The Quibbler, which mostly tended to stories about how Salazar Slytherin was alive and well and living in Droitwich, or three easy ways to stop nose hair growth. Obviously nobody in her family was interested in any sort of solid structure whatsoever...

_Monday evening (III)_

Draco watched in irritation as Pansy Parkinson flounced out of the room. Too bad she was angry, but if he had to come up with a way to give Longbottom confidence he was going to need every spare minute, and certainly couldn't waste time snogging. Longbottom! Why in Merlin's name had McGonagall's assignment paired the two of them, of all people?? Their family history wasn't exactly a good foundation on which to build confidence. And it wasn't like Draco had all that much confidence himself, lately, except in Potions class. You knew where you were with potions, all those measurements and careful preparation and whatnot. But Longbottom was pants at potions, so no common ground there...

++--++--+ Tuesday +--++--++

_Tuesday (I)_

Luna looked up from where she sat on the grass near the lake as Draco's shadow fell across the book she was reading. "Hello, Draco."

"So, you're my teacher for this little exercise in futility? Well, let's get it over with. What am I supposed to know?"

"You know I can't tell you." Luna closed her book and looked at him closely. "I really think you must have a Yawper. And maybe a Spizzbit as well."

Draco raised a pale eyebrow. "You really are daft as a brush, aren't you?" He sat down next to her. "Still, it could have been worse. I could have Granger sitting here, all buck teeth and frizzy hair and yapping about house elves' rights."

"I know you're trying to hurt my feelings," she said mildly. "But I don't mind, that's just the Spizzbit talking. Spizzbits are notorious for causing bad temper." She held out the book. "Here."

Draco took it from her without looking at it. "What's this?"

"You have to read it and talk about it with me. That's the assignment."

He flipped the book over and read the title aloud. "Pride and Prejudice." He snorted. "Well, so far I'm in favor of it. I don't recognize the author, though."

"She's a Muggle, from Hampshire. She's quite well known. My mother was very fond of her books."

Draco groaned. "Victorian literature? And Muggle Victorian lit to boot? Are you trying to teach me how not to die of boredom? Not to mention that my father will have a fit if he finds out I'm wasting time on this trash."

Luna twirled a strand of her straggly blond hair and said nothing, just looked at him. Angry grey eyes stared into mild and thoughtful grey eyes, until Draco finally flopped back on the grass with a sigh. "All right, all right." He opened the book, then paused. "I don't have to read it out loud, do I?"

"Oh no," said Luna. She produced another copy. "I've enchanted this one so it's tied to yours. Mine has a red dot that moves as you read, so I can keep up with you." She patted his knee encouragingly. "And if the Spizzbit peeks out of your ear while you're reading, I'll try to grab it. You'll feel much better if we can get it out."

_Tuesday (II)_

Neville was waiting at the door to the Music Room when Luna arrived. He looked pointedly at his watch. "You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago, you know."

She smiled. "Yes, I'm sorry about that. My shoes went missing again. I was going to just not bother with them, but Padma said you should have shoes when you dance so your partner doesn't mash your toes, so she loaned me a pair."

"I won't mash your toes!" Neville said, slightly indignant. "I know what I'm doing."

Luna began to twirl around the room, her straggly blonde hair floating around her like waterweeds. "I love to dance. Don't you?"

"Yes, but--" Neville reached out to grab her hand but missed. "I'm talking about dancing that you do with a partner."

She floated towards him and held out her hands. "You can do this with a partner. Come on!"

Neville crossed his arms. "Luna, this isn't dancing. It's just...skipping about."

She stopped and looked at him in surprise. "Of course it's dancing," she said. "Dancing is when music comes out of your feet and makes them move." She paused to consider a moment. "Or your fingers, I suppose, because my Auntie Moss was in a wheelchair and she was a beautiful dancer with her arms and hands. Or maybe--"

"Okay, hold on." Neville held up a hand. He was getting tired already. "I'm talking about dancing that has steps, where you and your partner know the steps and do them together."

"What do you mean, steps?"

"Steps are the way you move your feet, the steps you take that make up a dance. I thought we'd start with a waltz, it's one of the easiest."

Luna tilted her head to one side as if puzzled. "But how can you know the steps ahead of time? Until the music comes out of your feet, you don't know what it will ask you to do."

_Tuesday (III)_

Draco looked up from his careful dicing of porcupine quills as Neville poked his head cautiously around the door into the dungeons. "Well, come in then," he said. "Don't stand about, I haven't got all night."

Neville approached the table hesitantly. "Why are we meeting here?" He looked around uneasily. The dungeons was never a pleasant place; moreover, the memory of Snape's sneering evaluation of his last attempt at potions gave Neville serious doubts about learning anything at all.

Draco put down the little silver knife. "Because I'm going to teach you to brew a decent potion if it kills the both of us. And based on your past history, it just might."

Neville colored. "Don't put yourself out on my account, Malfoy," he said with some heat. "I'm happy to just take the assignment as failed and spare us both a week of misery."

"It's not you that fails if I can't do this, it's me," Draco pointed out. "And I don't fancy McGonagall taking fifty pints from Slytherin on account of me not being able to find a way to get it into your thick head that you--" he broke off.

Neville's face lit up. "Oh, right. It's not Potions I'm meant to learn at all, is it? It's something else." He gave a hesitant smile. "Well, that's a relief."

Draco ignored him. "We're going to focus on a class of potions known as organic potions," he began, sounding very much like Professor Snape. "They're called organic potions for two reasons: first, because they are designed to have an effect on living bodies, and second because they must have some kind of living ingredient -- in this case botanical -- not just metals or chemicals or dead things like bone..."

++--++--+ Wednesday +--++--++

_Wednesday (I)_

"So what do you think of the book so far?" Luna asked at their second meeting. "I saw you read ahead last night."

"Not bad, really," Draco said. He'd been surprised at how readable the book was. "That Darcy bloke -- he's got the right idea. Who do those Bennets think they are? Bunch of jumped up peasants." He laughed. "They're a bit like the Weasleys, really -- all those children. And the mother!" He rolled his eyes.

"Yes, she's not a very likeable person," Luna agreed. "I can't help but think she must have had a Wrackspurt, they do tend to muddle your priorities terribly. But what about how Mr Darcy behaves?"

"Just as he should do, I'd say. Like what's-her-name says, that friend of Elizabeth's ..." Draco flipped through the book until he found the passage he was looking for. "Here it is: 'One cannot wonder that so very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour, should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a right to be proud.' " He looked up expectantly.

"And?" Luna prompted him.

"Well, that's like me. Like us. We've got a right to be proud. We've been around since Charlemagne, for Merlin's sake."

Oh, dear, Luna thought.

_Wednesday (II)_

Luna was on time for their second meeting, for a wonder. She waited patiently while Neville waved his want to turn on the ancient phonograph in the corner and put on a record, an old piece called the "Durmstrang 1-2-3." It wasn't exactly classical, but it was the only waltz he'd been able to find.

"Okay, this is a waltz," he said as the music began. "The waltz only has three steps. You do them once forward, and then once backward." He demonstrated.

Luna watched with interest. "Only three? My goodness, doesn't that get boring?"

Neville stared at her. "Boring? Merlin, no! When you do a waltz properly it's...well, it's like flying."

"Oh! Flying would be lovely," Luna said. "I think it must be, you never see an unhappy bird, do you?" She waved her arms gently, like wings, and began to drift off but Neville -- alert for just such an occurrence -- grabbed her hand before she could get away.

"All right, let's give it a try. Ready?" Neville stepped forward. Luna stepped sideways. Neville stepped sideways. Luna stood still and he stepped squarely on her foot. "Luna, are you even listening to the music?" he finally said in exasperation.

"Of course," she answered. "But it's hard to hear it over all that noise coming out of the phonograph."

Oh, dear, thought Neville.

_Wednesday (III)_

Draco pointed to the three small potted plants he'd placed on the table. "So, which should we use for this potion, then?"

"Well..." Neville looked them over anxiously. "Can't I just look at the recipe?"

Draco heaved a long-suffering sigh. "No. It's not just knowing which plant to use for a potion, it's knowing why that particular plant is the right one. We're making Boil Remover, so...?"

Neville studied the plants in silence for a moment. "They'd all work?" he said finally.

"All right, we've got that much anyway. Yes. Now, which one would work best?"

Neville hesitated a moment, then said firmly, "This one." He pointed to a succulent with thick spear-shaped leaves edged with spikes. "Aloe."

Well, well, Draco thought.

++--++--+ Thursday +--++--++

_Thursday (I)_

"You read quite a lot last night," Luna said. "The dot in my book was simply flying along the pages."

Draco chewed a piece of grass. "I wanted to meet Lady Catherine. Mr Collins is a complete git, of course, but I from the way he described her I thought Lady Catherine would be really impressive, a great lady."

"Why did you think that?"

"Well, she's nobility, isn't she? The Muggle version of a Pureblood."

"But you didn't like her?"

"Merlin, no! She's stupid and arrogant and she thinks just because she's rich and powerful--" he broke off, frowning. "Well, she's not what I expected."

"A lot of people turn out to not be what we expected," Luna said. "That's one of the nice things about life, it always surprises you."

_Thursday (II)_

"This is lovely music, Neville," Luna said as she entered the room. "Ever so much nicer than the last time." She began to hum along, slightly off-key.

"I thought you might like this better," Neville said. "What does it make you think of?"

She closed her eyes, communing internally. "Flowers. Big fluffy ones, like magnolias and peonies and dahlias and Glimmering Glowdias, twirling around and around." She smiled. "Isn't that funny? I wonder why."

"It's called Waltz of the Flowers, by a composer named Tchaikovsky." Neville looked rather pleased with himself.

"Really?" She opened her eyes wide. "It's beautiful. He must have used a Vis-O-Quill to write the music. It paints pictures in your ears so you can see them on the back of your eyes."

"I'm pretty sure he was just a really, really talented Muggle," Neville said. "Right, here we go. Ready?"

Luna stepped closer to him. "Can I count two-four-six if I want to, instead of one-two-three?"

She was already swaying in time to the music as Neville put his arm around her waist and took her hand. He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you won't need to count this time."

_Thursday (III)_

"Not bad, Longbottom," Draco nodded approvingly. "Yes, wolfsbane is the exact right choice for this potion."

Neville blew out a sigh of relief. He was feeling much better about this after having correctly identified five plants for five different potions in a row. "Why do all these potions have to have a live ingredient?" he wondered aloud.

Draco shrugged. "Professor Snape says if you want the potion to be active in a living body, it has to have a living component. The more powerful the potion, the more living ingredients you need."

"They're not really living by the time they go in the potion, though. They've been all chopped up," Neville pointed out.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Longbottom, it's just a plant."

"I know, but if we only need a bit of it--"

Draco reached across and yanked the wolfsbane from the pot, scattering dirt. He dropped the plant on the table in front of Neville, roots already beginning to curl in the cold dry air of the dungeon. "Now, chop."

++--++--+ Friday +--++--++

_Friday (I)_

Friday was rainy and Draco hated rain as much as a cat, so they met in one of the small sitting rooms with a fireplace and comfortable armchairs. Despite the comfort of the room, Draco looked seriously displeased.

"Could we have some tea and toast?" Luna said to the room at large. "Rainy days always make me want tea and toast. And cats, of course, but that might be asking a bit much of the house-elves," she added as a tray containing hot buttered toast and a teapot appeared on the table with a POP.

Draco took a piece of toast and munched it moodily. "I don't like this book," he said. "What's Darcy playing at, asking that Mudbl-- er, commoner to marry him!"

"He doesn't do a good job explaining it, does he?" Luna agreed. "Being nice to people takes practice, you know. Elizabeth can't figure it out either. Remember what she says?" She turned to a dog-eared page. " 'I might as well inquire why with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character?' "

"She certainly doesn't seem very appreciative of the honor he's doing her." He finished the toast and licked butter off his fingers. "What gave her the right to be so rude to him??"

"Maybe he did," Luna said simply.

Draco frowned and opened his mouth to disagree, then shut it again as the words came back to him: _You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner._ "Don't be stupid," he said.

_Friday (II)_

By the time the last strains of music faded and they twirled to a halt Luna was laughing out loud. Her cheeks were flushed and her straggly hair was more flyaway than ever. "Oh, Neville, that was wonderful!" she said, clapping her hands. "You were right, it is like flying. How did you ever learn to do this?"

Neville smiled shyly. "My gran. She made me take lessons. I hated it at first, but now I'm glad. It gives you something to do at a party if you don't want to talk."

"It doesn't seem like only three steps, it seems like...like no steps at all! What shall we do next?" she asked eagerly.

Neville, occupied with checking something in the pocket of his robe, didn't answer for a moment. "Well," he said finally, "it looks like we don't have to do any more. My little slip of paper's gone, so I guess you've got what you were meant to get out of this."

"That's nice," Luna said. "So what shall we do next? Is there another one that's like flying?"

Neville grinned at her. "I think you'd love the polka..."

_Friday (III)_

Neville gave the cauldron a stir. Wisps of steam trailed over the brim and down the sides. "I've been thinking," he said. Draco snorted. Undeterred, Neville continued. "If the living ingredient is the most important and powerful part of the potion, what would happen if you could get the ingredient without killing the plant?"

Draco looked up from the mortar and pestle he was using to powder some fragments of quartz. "You do, sometimes. Like mistletoe berries, for example -- you pick those without hurting the plant."

"Does that make it stronger? The potion, I mean?"

Draco shrugged. "Who knows? I can't imagine it makes much difference."

"Well, let's give it a try. What are we making next time?"

"Mandrake Restorative Draught." He brushed back a lock of white-blond hair that had fallen into his face and raised a pale eyebrow. "I can't imagine how you'll get that ingredient without killing the plant."

Neville bristled at the challenge. "I bet you I can, you just wait and see."

++--++--+ Saturday +--++--++

_Saturday (I)_

Draco was waiting, absent-mindedly decapitating dandelions with flicks of his wand, when Luna arrived in their spot by the lake on Saturday.

"I see you finished the book," she said, sitting down beside him. "I followed you in my copy last night."

Draco shot her a sideways glance. "Nice to see that the silly girl finally comes around to appreciating Darcy," he said. "Instead of being all snotty about it. Too bad he doesn't make her pay for it. He's altogether too nice to her there at the end."

"Love's a funny thing, isn't it?" Luna said thoughtfully, watching a butterfly. "What is it that makes her appreciate him finally, do you think?"

Draco snorted. "Well, the visit to the Manor -- er, to Pemberley, of course, with her aunt and uncle. Wouldn't that impress anybody? She can see just how rich he is, how old and important his family is. Hard to miss." But what he was thinking of was Mrs Reynolds, the housekeeper. _If I was to go through the world, I could not meet with a better master,_ she had said.

Luna nodded. "I suppose Pemberley makes you think of your house, doesn't it?"

"Yes, well, a bit. Not as nice, of course." Draco beheaded a few more dandelions. What would the house-elves at Malfoy Manor say of him? he wondered. Of his father? Well, nothing but good of course, but then unlike Mrs Reynolds, they didn't have a choice. _What praise is more valuable than the praise of an intelligent servant?_ He noticed Luna watching him curiously.

He stretched and stood up. "Well, this has been educational, I'm sure. At least I've learned that not all Muggle literature is worthless tripe. If that was your goal, I guess you've accomplished it." _As a brother, a landlord, a master, she considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship! -- How much of pleasure or pain it was in his power to bestow! -- How much of good or evil must be done by him!_ He shook himself mentally. "See you in class next week."

Luna watched him walk away towards the castle. A tiny sound made her glance down, just in time to see the tiny slip of paper she held in her hand vanish in a curl of smoke. Well, that's nice, she thought, and went off to the Hall to see if there was pudding for dinner.

_Saturday (II)_

Once Luna set her mind to it, she was a quick learner. Neville taught her the mellow foxtrot and the rambunctious polka, and even Vivifyed a mop and broom so they could try some basic square dancing. They ended with a flashing, fiery tango that left them both breathless.

Afterwards, Neville walked her back to her common room. "Thank you, Neville," Luna said as they stopped at the foot of the stairs to Ravenclaw Tower. "This was lovely. It's very curious, isn't it, that following the steps can feel just as free as floating about on your own?"

_Saturday (III)_

Neville was a few minutes late, but he was grinning ear to ear. He took his hand from his pocket and dropped a small piece of mandrake root on the table in front of Draco. "There you go -- the first ever live-harvested Mandragora Root."

"You got this from a live Mandrake?" Draco said, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "How? Just pulling one out of the ground can kill you. A baby one sent you into a dead faint first year!"

Neville's grin was smug. "You remember Professor Sprout told us they go through the adolescence stage where they start moving into each other's pots. So I started thinking, what happens after that?"

Draco stared at him blankly. "Well?"

"Well, middle-aged Muggles, they start drinking too much of something called 'beer' and end up falling asleep in front of the telly. So I found the two oldest ones, poured some butterbeer into the pots and played a recording of the last Wizarding News Network ministry debates. They were asleep in ten minutes. I was able to slip a secateurs down into the pot and snip off the ends of some roots without their even noticing," he ended triumphantly.

Draco pursed his lips, impressed but evidently trying not to show it. "All right, I've got everything else ready." He indicated the bubbling cauldron. "Throw it in and let's see if your theory works."

Neville dropped the piece of Mandrake into the pot, which emitted a whoof of steam and turned an attractive pale-green color. Draco gave it a stir, then lifted the spoon and watched the thick creamy liquid drizzle back into the pot. "We haven't got anyone petrified at the moment. How do you plan to test your theory?" he asked. "I suppose we could petrify Creevey..."

"If I'm right, it'll be much stronger than the normal kind. Why don't we just test it on regular stone?" Glancing around the room, Neville's eyes fell on a small stone statue of a knight on horseback. "How about this?"

"Mandrake Restorative Draught has to be drunk, Longbottom," Draco said in a condescending tone. "And it unpetrifies living flesh, it won't work on something that's never been alive." He set the spoon, dripping with potion, on the stone table...and watched open-mouthed as the grey stone beneath the spoon changed to something remarkably resembling warm, soft flesh. "What the..."

"Blimey," Neville whispered. He looked at Draco, pride shining in his eyes. "Well, I guess I was right. Live stuff really does work better."

Back in Draco's room in the Slytherin dormitory, a small piece of paper disappeared in a puff of smoke.

++--++--+ Sunday +--++--++

Sunday evening

Albus Dumbledore looked up as Professor McGonagall stepped into his office carrying a stack of parchments and a quill. Before she could speak, he said, "Congratulations, Minerva. I believe we have succeeded."

She eyed him sharply. "I do not usually allow anyone else to conjure the pairings for this particular lesson, Albus. I hope you have good reason for interfering with my classes."

Dumbledore gazed at her over his half-moon glasses. "I think perhaps we have planted seeds that will bear important fruit, yes. Young Mr Longbottom's confidence will grow like a Mimbulus Mimbletonia, and he will remember that he has knowledge that is useful to his friends."

"Ah. And Miss Lovegood? You are hoping she will avoid her mother's fate?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Poor Selene. So creative, really a brilliant mind. But incoherent. She operated solely on instinct -- any rules at all were too restrictive, too binding. 'One must be truly free in order to truly create,' she used to say." He shook his head. "And that is why she died. Even a first year knows that one doesn't add powdered asphodel and essence of dittany to a simmering brew at the same time, but Selene..." He took a sip of his wine. "Well. If Miss Lovegood remembers that combining freedom with structure results in a stronger foundation than relying on rumor and Wrackspurts, we will have done our work well."

Professor McGonagall nodded in agreement. "And...young Malfoy? What of him?"

"Ah, there we have planted perhaps the most important seeds of all. Luna's book has suggested to him the idea that pride must be deserved, that money does not equate to character, and that a judgment made too swiftly and on shallow grounds may be incorrect."

She twirled the quill between her fingers, watching the feather point first one way, then another. "Will the seed grow, do you think?"

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said. "That seed...and perhaps another."

"Another?"

But Dumbledore, his eyes closed, made no answer. Silence fell, broken only by the quiet hum of the orrery as the planets moved in their fixed courses. In that silence, Albus Dumbledore allowed himself to hope that that other seed would grow: that Draco would remember that life is more powerful than death, and that one who preserves life is stronger than one who brings death. For the son of a Death Eater, there could be no more important lesson.


End file.
